My Brother's Keeper
by EstelWolfe
Summary: Jack, Will and company face off against a young man with a special gift who seeks their destruction to right what he perceives as a wrong. Sequel to To Love and Protect, fourth in the arc started with A Taste of Misery
1. Chapter 1: Warning

Disclaimer:  I own them in my dreams.

AN:  This is part 4 (maybe part 5) of my series that starts in "A Taste of Misery", continues in "Trust Me Still", and continues yet again in "To Love and Protect".  Knowledge of "To Love and Protect" is going to be essential to this.  As always, I'm extremely grateful to everyone who reads, and especially to those who take the time to tell me what they think.

**My Brother's Keeper**

**Part 1**

The wooden door shuddered as someone pounded on it from the outside.  Will was on his feet quickly, grabbing his sword before moving to open the locks.  He stood off to the side as he slowly opened the door.  Sword, lock and stance were all survival techniques, habits he had slowly picked up after one too many bad encounters.

The fact that the blond hurricane that swept into the room knew where he would be standing to grab him into a tight embrace told him it was a friend, though the man wasn't standing still enough to make more of an identification.

"I got it!  Will, I got it!"

"You got it?"  Will grinned at Elizabeth, standing by the table with the children and trying not to laugh.  Jack and Ana weren't quite succeeding in keeping their mirth to themselves, though the twin's victory cry showed that they understood what was happening.

Brian laughed himself, releasing Will and grinning self-consciously before making his way over to the rest of the family.  "Aye.  You're looking at a Captain again.  That's not the best part, though."

"He gave you the _Intrepid_ back.  Oh, Brian, I'm so glad."  The embrace that the young Navy man and Elizabeth shared was less exuberant than the one that Will had found himself engulfed in but no less loving.

"When are you heading out?"  Will sat down, gesturing to the extra chair at the table that was usually kept out for the young man.

"Tomorrow morning.  Most of my old crew'll be there, except for Rollin.  He's already gotten himself a captaincy of his own."  Brian sat slowly, as he normally did.  Whether it was a leftover habit from the weeks and months when movement of any kind had hurt or whether there was still some pain where he had been shot nearly two years ago, Will wasn't certain.

"Are there any strings attached to the promotion?"

"No.  Commodore Jenkin is planning on coming with us on this first voyage, but it's understood that it's strictly in an observational capacity.  He just wants to make sure everything's going to work out.  He also mentioned something about two spare hammocks, one of which is the perfect size for a twelve-year-old powder-monkey who plays at being a pirate."

Dead silence fell.

"I'm sorry if I was being presumptuous.  I know you've been working with your father, Jack . . .I just thought . . ."  Brian shifted his gaze between the members of his surrogate family, clearly at a loss for both words and understanding.

"Jack swore he'd never work on a Navy ship again."  Ana didn't flinch at her brother's glare, returning it full force, and for a moment they reminded Will quite vividly of their namesakes.  "Well, you did."

"Oh.  I see."  It was quite obvious that the young captain didn't see.  "I suppose there's always merchant sailing."

"That's not quite what he had in mind, either.  Ow!"  Ana returned her brother's kick under the table.

"You know piracy is dying out, Jack.  It's getting more and more dangerous.  Even privateering is being looked down on.  Why won't you work on a navy ship?"

"Because they're hypocrites!  They're hypocrites, and they're vicious, and they turn on their own!"  The young man struggled to reign in his temper.  "They took your ship away from you.  They demoted you for fixing their mess."

"They could have hung me.  They should, by rights, have hung me.  Jenkin . . .altered the story and saved my life and my career.  What I did was treasonous, Jack.  The fact that I wasn't only given my life but allowed to stay an officer . . .that speaks volumes about both the judges and Jenkin's storytelling prowess.  Besides, do you really think pirates don't turn on their own?"

"At least when they do it's expected.  You saved my life, you saved Goduncle, you saved who knows how many other marines from dying when they didn't need to at the orders of a madman, and they repaid you by taking your ship and your rank when you couldn't even stand up straight to defend yourself."  The anger had been replaced by a sullen animosity as the table leg received the brunt of the youth's unrest.

"I broke the law, I paid the price.  It was my choice.  If you don't want to come, that's fine, but I thought you'd like being at sea again.  I think George and Adam were looking forward to seeing you, too."  Brian shrugged and looked away.  "Can I have a drink, Will?"

Will nodded and rose, and the silence lasted the entire time he was pouring the brandy.

"I'll come."  Jack timed his answer to the click of the mug being set on the table.  "I'll come on the _Intrepid_.  She's not normal navy, anyway."

"She is.  She's exactly like every other navy ship out there, and she operates under the same code."  Brian didn't meet his godson's eyes as he spoke, instead staring in Will's general direction.  The blacksmith got the distinct impression that the Navy man was struggling not to grin.

Jack paused again and scowled before sighing.  "I'll still come.  Papa'll never let me crew on Uncle Jack's ship, anyway."

"That's because your father wants to keep you alive.  I'm glad you're coming, though.  It wouldn't have been the same without you, demon."

The boy grinned at the use of his goduncle's nickname for him.

"What about the other vacant hammock?"  Elizabeth's voice was soft, her eyes troubled.

"It was supposed to go to Lord Riley, another reason that Jenkin was planning on tagging along, but it seems he discovered on about day seven of the trip from England to the Caribbean that he and water get along much better when the water is standing still.  He declined the invitation, claiming that he still hasn't gotten over being seasick from the first voyage.  So that makes it captain's choice whether or not to fill the vacancy."  Brian turned his bright blue eyes on Will again, questioning.

"I can't, Brian.  I'm sorry, but I have—"

"I already talked to Robert, and he said it was fine.  It'll only be for a week.  It'll be like everything's come full circle, back to what it was before . . .everything."  Brian's gaze clouded and darkened, and Will felt pity again for the young man.

Will also couldn't deny that the thought of being on a ship again brought a thrill to his heart.  He could content himself with life on land, could love it for the family it brought him and the closeness and security it offered, but . . .Whether it was the pirate blood in him or something else, he had developed a definite fondness for the sea and all her wild ways.

"You can keep a closer eye on your son.  If you don't want to come, that's fine too . . ."

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth smiled gently, though a ghost of uncertainty, maybe even fear, seemed to touch her eyes.  "If you want to go, Will, then go.  Just make sure the three of you come back in one piece."

"Then I'll come, Brian.  I want to help sail her, though, not be a pampered passenger."

Brian laughed.  "I can treat you like the lowest impressed enlisted man if you want."

"I don't think that'll be quite necessary . . ."

                                    *                                  *                                  *

"I love you, Elizabeth.  You're so beautiful . . ."  Will nuzzled his wife's neck, completely content in her company.

"You can't even see me, William.  It's pitch dark in here."  His wandering fingers drew a giggle from his wife.

"I don't need to see you to know you're beautiful."

"Will . . .Will, please.  Promise me you'll be careful."  Elizabeth clasped both his hands to her heart.

Will froze, all thoughts of intimacy disappearing abruptly at the troubled note in her voice.  "Of course I'll be careful.  What's wrong?"

"I don't know.  I just . . .have a bad feeling about this.  Promise me you'll be careful, and watch out for Jack.  He's starting to act too grown up for his own good.  And Brian . . .he's too willing to die for a cause."

Dying?  When had dying come up?

"I'll be careful, Elizabeth, and I'll watch out for them.  You're sure it's just a feeling?"  Will smoothed her hair away from her face, caressing her jaw-line gently.

Elizabeth sighed, and he could feel her skin tighten as she smiled.  "I'm just becoming a panicky old wife."

"I'd take you being a panicky old wife over anyone else any day of the week."  Will leaned down to capture her mouth with his own, and all signs of distress or uncertainty quickly faded from both halves of the couple.

                                    *                                  *                                  *

"And that would make this my game as well.  Thank you, gentleman, ladies, and sea dogs, for another wondrous night of fun."  Jack downed the last of his grog in one swift gulp before collecting his earnings, bowing slightly, and moving swiftly to the opposite side of the tavern, a grin spreading across his face as he watched his former companions.  If someone didn't calm down, it looked like the perpetual brawling in _The Faithful Bride_ would have another facet soon.

He loved winning.

Especially when his opponents were so bad that he didn't even have to cheat.

"Hey, love, fetch me a rum, won't you?"  The serving wench nearest him nodded, eyeing him thoughtfully as she beat a hasty retreat.  Jack's grin only broadened at the attention.

This was turning out to be quite a wonderful day . . .well, night.

"Enjoying yourself, Captain?"

Jack spun around and easily caught his first mate into a tight embrace.  "Aye, love, I'm quite enjoying myself, and with you here it's just gotten better."

Ana-Maria calmly extricated herself from his hands, smiling as she did.  "Good. I see you're making a new batch of enemies."

"They won't even remember who took their money come morning.  Besides, I won fairly."

The female pirate lifted one eyebrow.

"Honestly, no tricks!  Don't you think I can win a game of cards, love?"  Jack affected his most aggrieved expression, managing to look injured even while accepting his rum with one hand and tossing a coin to the wench with the other, all without breaking eye contact with his lover.

"I know you can.  I just . . .Jack?"

Jack shook his head, closing his eyes and wincing as he rubbed at his temple.

"Jack, what's wrong?"  Ana-Maria's voice had taken on a distinctly worried note as she grabbed the rum from his hand and set it on the closest table, where it was immediately snatched by another patron.  "What is it?"

"I don't . . ."  His eyes had taken on a distant quality and he swayed slightly, finding it incredibly hard to focus.  "Will . . .something . . .something bad.  Something bad's happening."

"What?"

Jack felt a gentle tug on his arm and followed the movement hazily, most of his being focused on trying to make out something more coherent over the link.  For the last two years it had settled into a quiescent buzz, just barely noticeable, a faint reassurance that everything was going well with the Turners.

What could Will have gotten himself into that would cause a warning to be sent out?  Blacksmithing was supposed to be a _safe_ profession . . .

"Will!"  The pirate captain screamed the name, doubling over as pain and terror suddenly stood out brightly before the link again dropped to a barely-audible level.

"Jack?  Jack, what's happening?"  Ana-Maria's arms supported him as she continued to guide his staggering walk through the town and towards the docks.

"I don't know."  A few deep breaths were enough to calm the nausea and the growing sense of unease, at least for a moment.  "But it's not good."


	2. Chapter 2: Of Darkness and Light

Disclaimer:  Unfortunately, they are not owned by a member of the genus canis, so I cannot claim them . . .except for Brian, Jenkin, the kids, and the bad guys.  Not that the mouse would want them . . .

**My Brother's Keeper**

**Part 2**

"Jack?"

"I'm all right, love."  Jack lifted his head off his hands long enough to smile at Ana-Maria and accept the drink she offered him.  He really was feeling better, the swaying of a ship beneath him helping to clear his head and settle his stomach.

"What happened, Jack?  Will's not . . .he's still . . ."  Ana-Maria sat down at the table next to him, her own drink in hand, eyes hooded and wary.  Jack knew she had never liked the idea of the link to begin with; something like this was just bound to make her even more leery.

"He's not dead, no.  He's hurt, though.  I'm not sure how badly.  He was scared, too . . .maybe one of the children . . .I don't know.  I wasn't ready.  All I was able to make out were a few blurred impressions."

That was the most frustrating part of what had happened.  He _had_ been caught completely off guard, and his first instinct had been to block out the sensations invading his mind.  Would he know more if he had opened the doors of his mind to Will instead of slamming the barriers shut?

Would it change anything?

"What're you going to do?"  Ana-Maria was watching him carefully, almost too carefully, as though she were suddenly uncertain of the ground she was trodding.

"We're going to wait until tomorrow, get our crew to sign ship's articles again, and in the meantime we're goin' to think of a bloody good reason for them to want to go to Johnson."

"If they won't go?"

Jack shrugged, slouching back in the chair as usual as he took another swig of his rum.  "Then you'd better be ready to take command, and either have a spare boat t' give me, a lot of rope t' tie me up with, or a willingness to put a sword through my gut or a ball through my brain.  I can't—I _won't_— ignore him forever, love."

Ana-Maria simply stared at him, seeming to be completely frozen, at a loss for a way to respond to the nonchalant declaration.

Jack grinned at his lover, leaning closer and running gentle fingers down her cheek and along her jaw.  "That's not going to happen, though, now is it?  Two smart people like us, with a decent and relatively loyal crew . . .we'll figure out a way."

"Jack . . ."  Ana-Maria pulled back from him, the hooded and glazed look finally falling away to be replaced by fear, anger, and the faint glimmer of possible tears.

"No, love, none of that."  He met with little resistance as he pulled the female pirate onto his lap, lightly kissing her eyelids before moving in to capture her mouth.  "Everything will work out fine."

Ana-Maria smiled slightly, returning his affection with a passion of her own.  "It better, you bloody fool."

"It will.  Have some faith."

The female pirate toyed with the single gray braid amidst the raven tangle of her lover's hair.  The gray hairs had slowly begun appearing after the sinking of the _Pearl_.  Ana-Maria had expected some sort of worry, maybe even a moment of panic at the proof of his mortality, but instead the pirate captain had shrugged, collected the thin gray strands into one section, and woven another braid, a pale ghost that stood out vividly.  The limp that made itself known more and more often was the one other sign that Time had not decided to pass Jack Sparrow by.

"Come on, love."  Jack was on his feet and out of the cabin before Ana-Maria could say anything.

"Come where?  What are you doing now, you daft—"  The female pirate cut herself off mid-sentence as Jack moved to the rail, facing open sea, and quickly deposited both his sword and his pistol on the deck, ignoring the night watch and being ignored in turn by an obviously intelligent crew-member.

"Are you coming?"  Jack's shirt was quickly thrown over his weapons, displaying a well-muscled and oft-scarred upper body.

 "What if Will wakes up again?"

"I'll deal with it.  I could swim in my sleep.  You know that.  Do you want to come?"

Ana-Maria moved closer to her lover, running a gentle hand down his face.  "Are you really sure you want me to come?"

Jack hesitated, staring over her shoulder at the water, and Ana-Maria had her answer.

"Go on.  I'll watch the ship, and you."

The pirate captain gave her a small smile and nodded, quickly removing his boots, stepping up to the railing, and diving off.

Ana-Maria watched the dive, and lingered a moment at the rail to watch him surface before moving back.  She had done what she could for him.

It was time for his only other remaining lover to heal what she could.

                                    *                                  *                                  *

_Men waking to the watch bell, throwing on uniforms and grabbing weapons before Will could even determine what was happening  . . ._

_Cannon fire in the dead of night, blinding light on dark on light  . . ._

_Sails black as pitch, dark against the heavens, a bitter reminder of another ship, another captain . . ._

_"Brian?"_

_For a moment the mask of forced calm slipped as friends shared a glance, and disbelief, confusion, uncertainty, anger, all vied for possession of the blue eyes.  "I don't know, Will.  Try to keep out of danger.  They've got the wind at their back and they're obviously prepared . . . "_

"Turner, are you conscious yet?"

_The crack of pistols, the clang of swords, the screams and curses of men occasionally managed to drown out the groans of the hardware of war._

_"Remember, take Turner, Lanebridges, and the boy, and take them alive!"  The voice was unfamiliar, obviously someone of importance to the boarders, but the utter chaos of battle under a near-moonless sky made it impossible to determine who was yelling._

_It was several precious seconds later that the meaning of the words sank in._

_The boy?_

_Jack!_

_Where was he?  Had something already happened?_

_Jack . . ._

"Will, now would be that opportune moment that Jack taught you about.  You'll be waking up any second now, right?  Will . . . "

_One he could have handled easily.  Two would take a bit more work, but still wasn't much of a problem.  Three, when he was fighting to find his son, was still just a hindrance.  Four was problematic._

_Five, though . . . five was just downright cruel, when he didn't even have any maneuvering space to work with . . .and before he'd even managed to find his son . . ._

"Papa, you need to wake up now.  Please, papa, we need your help.  You've got to be all right.  Father . . ."

Something brushed against his arm again, a gentle touch that seemed not so much hesitant as awkward and hindered.  The darkness of dreams was slowly replaced with darkness of a different texture.

"Where . . ."  His voice was thinner, more strained and hoarse than he wished it to be, and Will cleared his throat before trying again.  "Where are we?"

"On a ship.  Beyond that, heaven only knows.  There's not a crack or chink anywhere around the cells for us to see outside and get any sense of time, let alone of directions."

Will jerked abruptly upright, wincing as the movement brought sensation back to stiff muscles and caused a steady pounding to take up residence in his skull.  An unpleasant tingling sensation engulfed his fingers as he flexed his wrists, which were chained firmly behind his back.  A similar process occurred in his ankles as he shifted to a more upright position against the bars at his back.  "Commodore Jenkin?"

"Aye.  How are you feeling, Turner?"  The darkness was a solid wall that prevented Will from doing much more than staring off in the relative direction from which he thought the voice emanated.

"You're all right, aren't you, papa?"

Will twisted around abruptly, grinning, bringing his own still-tingling fingers to touch his son's through the bars as the boy again brushed his sleeve.  "Jack.  You're all right?"

"I'm all right.  They didn't do much to me, once they got my sword away.  I tried, Papa, really I did, but he had a longer reach, and he was stronger, and—"

The boy's babbling died away as the blacksmith tightened his hold on his son's hands as much as he could.  "It's all right, Jack.  What's important is that you're still alive and that you're not hurt.  Did they just take the three of us?"

"Not quite."

"Brian?"

"Accounted for."

Will strongly disliked the rasping quality lurking behind the ironic lilt in the young man's voice.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."  The finality with which the words were spoken gave evidence to the contrary.

"Liar."  If the boy meant the word to be an unheard whisper, he had underestimated either the volume of his own voice or the auditory acuity that total darkness brought.

"Jack, that's not a proper tone to use when speaking to your Captain, now is it?"  There was no real reprimand in Brian's voice, only exasperation and exhaustion.

The young man was apparently aware of that, as he lowered his voice so only Will could hear clearly.  "He was trying to defend me.  He slipped, and he ended up on the deck.  They kicked him, hard, in the stomach and in the back.  I couldn't tell if he was cut, too, but when he tried to maneuver earlier and grab the picklocks out of my shirt he passed out."

"I did not pass out.  I just decided further movement was too much work."

"You did too!  You scared me, godpapa."  Any argument Brian might have made was stymied by that simple statement.

"Picklocks?"  There was nothing that Will could do to help the Navy man at the moment, but if there was a possibility of gaining their freedom . . .

"Uncle Jack gave them to me.  It's a leather strap with a set of picklocks in it.  I was supposed to tie it where I could grab the picks with my teeth if the need ever arose, but the leather band slipped and twisted around, and now I can't reach it."

"Jack Sparrow gave you a set of picklocks?"

"Was he not supposed to?"

Not really, no.  "Did he show you how to use them?"

"Aye."

"Did you practice?"

"Maybe."

"On what?"

"Anything and everything I could find with a lock on it."

"Do you think you can undo these?"  Will shook his hands, causing the short chain to rattle furiously.

"I hope so."

"I do, too.  Where are they?"

"They're on my right arm."

"Where's that?"  Will smiled as his son laughed, the sound a bit too forced and bright but still incredibly welcome.

"Wait a minute and let me turn over."  Slight scuffing and scraping accompanied the words as Jack moved away from the bars and then back towards them in a new position.  "There.  Can you feel my shirt?"

"Aye."  Will could feel the edge of his son's shirt, and twisted his hands even more despite the pressure it put on his wrists where they were manacled and on his forearms where they pressed against the bars of his cell.  He slowly felt his way along the boy's shoulder and down his arm, pulling the shirt back as much as it would go.

His questing fingers found the leather strap a second before he thought one or both of his wrists was going to break.  It was difficult to feel the picklocks through the tingling that was again taking up residence in his fingers, and even more difficult to grasp one between two fingers of his right hand and pull it free.  How someone was supposed to do this with their _teeth_ . . .

The light that flooded the cells was blinding after the complete darkness that had come before.  Will just barely bit back a cry of pain as he ripped his hands back through the bars and into his own cell as quickly as he could, clenching the picklock in a fist that was closed just as tightly as his eyelids.

"Well, well, well, what have we here.  How're our guests doing?  Everyone conscious?"

Will opened his eyes to slits and stared towards the light, able to make out blurred impressions that slowly resolved themselves into the figures of three men.  The tallest one, who had apparently spoken before, stepped towards little Jack's cell.

"The child who didn't know enough to stay home where he was safe.  You should never meddle in the affairs of those older and wiser than you, boy.  It leads to situations like this."  There seemed to be genuine regret in the man's voice as he knelt down to stare at Jack, who had made himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, attempting to shrug his shirt back into a semi-proper position.

The blacksmith swept a glance around the brig, assessing their condition.  Each of them was in a small cell, deep enough to lie down in but hardly wide enough to sit in.  Brian was in the farthest corner, on the opposite side of Jack, and seemed quite composed, leaning against the back bars of his cell, apparently completely unperturbed by the blood on his uniform.  If he was in pain, it didn't show.  Jack was in the next cell, struggling to maneuver away from where the man was kneeling.  Then came Will's own cage, followed by Jenkin's, and finally an empty cell.

"So young to be involved in these affairs . . ."  The tall man reached through the bars, his hand hesitating over Jack's head.  The boy threw his head back and bared his teeth, apparently quite willing to bite the man if he tried to touch him.  "A boy with some spirit . . ."

"Who are you?  What do you want with my son?"  It was a rather obvious ploy to divert attention from young Jack, but it worked.  The man withdrew his hand and moved to stand in front of Will's cell, scowling at the blacksmith.

"I don't want anything to do with you or your son or the rest of these people.  As for my name . . .my name is Jonas.  That's all you need to know for now."  Jonas knelt down and motioned the man with the lantern closer.

Will again squinted against the glare, the ache in his head seeming to increase exponentially, something he hadn't thought possible.  "If you don't want anything to do with us, then why'd you attack us?  Why take us prisoner?"

"Because I know someone who does want you . . .or most of you."  The smile that Jonas sent towards Jenkin was anything but kind.  "Others will just do for ransom."

"Who wants to see us?  Why isn't he here himself?"

Something flickered briefly across Jonas' face, and Will couldn't quite tell if it was anger or something else.  "He's otherwise occupied.  You'll see him soon enough.  You don't look so well, Turner."  Jonas turned to the men who were with him.  "You were told to bring them alive and relatively unharmed."

"We tried, sir, 'onest we did, but the crazy man just wouldn' go down an' stay down."  The lantern swung as the lantern-bearer shrugged expressively.

"See to his injuries.  What about our dear Captain?  Is any of that his blood?"  Jonas moved now to stand in front of Brian's cell.

"No.  None of it's mine."  Brian met cold stare for cold stare until Jonas nodded and turned away.

"Care for Turner's injuries, and any that you find on the others.  Feed them.  Give them drink.  Under no circumstances are you to unchain their hands, though, is that clear?  And under no circumstances are they to be injured further.  None."

"None, sir?"

"None.  Understood?"  Jonas stared steadily at the two men who were with him.

"Aye, sir."  The quiet chorus could hardly be described as ecstatic, but at least it seemed as though the men would follow orders.

"Now, Turner, just try to behave yourself, all right?  I'd hate to have to do anything to that innocent boy of yours."  With that Jonas turned and left through the door by which he had entered, fading into the blackness.

Will studied the two men who were left, his breath constricting suddenly, acutely aware of the press of metal into his hand that could, quite possibly, be their passage to freedom . . .if he could only keep it safe.


	3. Chapter 3: Witchcraft and Friendship

Disclaimer: If I owned them, would I be this cruel? thinks Don't answer that…

AN: My grandma has terminal cancer and her last wish is to go to Alaska, so the entire family, myself included, is going with her for an indeterminate length of time. I won't be able to update until we get back. Sorry, guys.

**My Brother's Keeper**

**Part 3**

"Mama, I want to go with them! I can lead them to Jack just like he led you to me! You _know_ I can, and you know I'm a good fighter."

"It's absolutely out of the question. There is no possible way I am taking a female child aboard my ship, especially the daughter of a civilian with known criminal ties who talks of witchcraft as though it were commonplace and dresses as no decent woman would."

"Whatever else you may wish to say, you will leave my husband's _connections_ and my daughter's current way of dressing out of this! You know as well as I that anyone wishing to fight would be mad to wear a dress."

Jack hesitated outside the door to the Turner's house, seriously considering for a moment leaving the current occupants to their verbal sparring and returning at a later time… quite possibly when one of the combatants was either dead or unconscious.

"It's not witchcraft! It's natural, something that's always been there! Mama, tell him that it's not—"

"It's as natural, girl, as your father's link to that bloody pirate, God help his soul. I don't condemn you for your… gift… or your father for his, but I will not take you aboard a Navy ship filled to capacity with superstitious soldiers. I'm sorry."

Or maybe they wouldn't kill one another.

"You're not sorry. The only thing you're sorry about is that Uncle Jack stole your ship."

Or mayhap they would.

Just as the pirate captain had turned to leave, determining that the likelihood of his being able to aid anyone if he entered currently was somewhere between slim and nonexistent, the door opened, discharging a rather furious-looking naval officer with an equally-furious young woman on his heels. Both stopped dead on catching sight of the pirate.

"Jack Sparrow." There seemed to be an even mixture of disgust, amusement and reluctant acceptance in the naval man's tone.

"Lieutenant Rollin." Jack glanced at the man's shoulder epaulette before grinning widely. "I'm sorry, Captain Rollin. Congratulations on the promotion. Being a captain's quite wonderful, isn't it?"

Rollin's expression didn't change as he moved slowly toward the pirate. "I should clap you in irons and have you thrown in jail before sending a cutter out to reclaim my ship."

Jack sidestepped and paced around the naval man, never diverting his eyes from his opponent. A quick glance had already shown Elizabeth and Ana, standing together in the doorway and watching the scene unfolding before them with a mixture of shock and dismay. "Ah, you see, technically she wasn't ever your ship. Granted, Captain Lanebridges did take her as a prize from the privateers, but you weren't official navy at the time, and she was never truly listed in anyone's books as a prize."

"She was my first command, and I lost her to a pirate based on a ruse." Rollin stopped moving to face the pirate captain completely, any trace of amusement leaving his expression.

"You were the one who bought the ruse, mate, not me."

"I wanted to protect my captain's life because I respected him."

Jack countered the officer's step forward with a casual step back. "Good. Then we're on the same side this time, too. I respect your captain and I want to find him and bring him home."

"How do you know anything's happened to him?" Rollin's voice was a low growl, suspicion evident in everything from his stance to his expression.

"Witchcraft. It allows so many astonishing things." Jack didn't back away as the naval man moved closer. He could practically hear the other man's mind racing through the possibilities.

"Back into the house. All of you."

The solid walls of the Turner's house seemed only to amplify the aura of tension and distrust running between Jack and the naval man, both of whom took stances on opposite sides of the room within easy reach of the wall.

Rollin broke the uneasy silence first. "I don't suppose I need to ask you why you're here."

"No, you seem to have figured that out. I knew spending so much time on a Navy ship was a bad idea, but Brian's hospitality was so warm…" Jack trailed off as Rollin paled, his face hardening, some of the amusement and acceptance converting to more open hostility. "Look, all I want to do is find my mate and his son, and seeing as it appears that your captain's in the same boat with them, working together or at least not hindering each other would seem to make the most sense. Especially considerin' you're not willing to use all the resources at your disposal."

"And I suppose your men would welcome a child like her aboard?"

Jack nonchalantly watched as Elizabeth carefully held her daughter's hands firmly in front of her and away from sharp objects, the girl's eyes boring furiously into Rollin.

"My men 'ave learned that some superstitions are just that. Women aboard aren't bad luck… 'sides, your Navy people took the boy."

"That is a different matter."

"No, it's not, but I'm not here to debate that with you."

"Did anyone else in town see you?"

"No. Are you goin' to arrest me or not?"

Rollin was saved from answering by a polite but firm knock on the door. Elizabeth whispered something into her daughter's ear before moving to answer it, and the young woman simply stood and sulked when released. For his part, Jack ghosted back into the shadows, catching only a glimpse of the uniformed man with the bandaged head standing outside.

"Mrs. Turner, I was told that Captain Rollin might be here." George Hardel's voice had changed little in the last two years.

Elizabeth nodded and stood back, allowing Rollin to take her place.

"Sir, carpenter gives his apologies and says the _Intrepid_ still needs at least two days before she'll be of any use in a fight."

Rollin nodded shortly, and Jack wished he could see the man's expression. "Thank you, Hardel. And what news from the doctor?"

"Lost Jones and Gary since last night, but he'd expected as much. Everyone else should be all right, eventually. Figure maybe another dozen'll be good to go by the time the _Intrepid_'s ready to sail again, though everyone wants to come."

"And your head?"

"I'm fine, sir. It'll take a hell of a lot more'n a knock on the head to keep me from paying them back in spades for what they did to us, pardon my language, sir."

"Thank you, Hardel. Tell the carpenter that I will be there shortly to discuss our time-frame with him… just as soon as I've talked to Doctor Welks."

"Aye, sir."

Rollin stood framed in the doorway for a few moments more before shutting it and turning to the pirate captain, his face impassive but his eyes dark with hatred. "What do you know about what's happened?"

"Nothing. Just that Will and his boy are in trouble." Jack's voice was completely serious. There were times to push men, and there were times to back away, and this was most definitely one where backing far away was the better part of valor.

"The _Intrepid_ was attacked about a day out of port, in the dead of night, by a ship with sails even blacker than the night. This ship was completely dark, no lanterns at all; there was fog; the upper watchman was young, still learning his job. The pirates had the weather gauge, and apparently a very strong desire for blood. They took Commodore Jenkin, Captain Lanebridges, and Turner and his boy. Someone struck the colors after that, but the pirates continued to kill the crew and pummel the ship with shot. We lost nearly three dozen men, with many more injured." Rollin stared at Jack, and the pirate was struck not simply by the rage in his eyes but by the pain and hesitancy. "What kind of men will take prisoners, continue to attack a ship that's struck her colors, and then leave the ship? What kind of pirates and murderers are these, Sparrow?"

"I don't know. I haven't heard of anyone like that, not in these waters, not for a long time."

Rollin hesitated again. "You haven't made yourself much of a nuisance to English merchants in the last few years."

Jack waved his right hand vaguely. "They haven't really had much that's interested me."

"In fact, you've barely harassed enough vessels to still be considered a pirate instead of a privateer."

"That's low, mate. Jack Sparrow is not, and never will be, a privateer."

"If it's true you haven't been seen here, then I suggest you leave, very quickly. Take the girl if you want. I will personally consecrate the carpenter as a saint if the _Intrepid_ is anything near fit to fight in two days, and I'm not willing to take just the _Defender_ in against unknown odds. Lord knows what will be happening to our people in the meantime." With that Rollin turned, bowed swiftly to Elizabeth, and exited the house.

Both Jack and Ana turned questioning eyes to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth smiled tightly. "Have enough space for two extra crewmembers, Jack?"

XXXXXX

The soft snap of metal forced past its endurance point reached Will's ear a moment before a string of curses, mingling several languages, that would have done Jack Sparrow proud.

"I'm sorry, papa. I thought I could do it, I really did, and I'm trying but it just won't work and the stupid bloody things keep breaking—"

"It's all right, Jack." Will sighed, twisting around to pat awkwardly at his son's back, recognizing a deeply buried hint of tears in the young man's voice. "Are there more of them?"

"There's one more, but it won't make any difference. I can't do it, not like this." Metal clanged against metal as the frustrated young man slammed his manacled wrists against the bar.

"You're not used to working with your hands tied behind your back in the dark. You're figuring it out, though. Lie down."

Jack did as he was told, and father and son quickly worked through the by now routine ritual of getting a picklock out of the leather strap tied to the young man's arm.

"What if I don't figure it out, papa? What if it doesn't work?" Jack pitched his voice low, a question meant only for is father's ears.

"Then we'll think of something else. Don't worry."

"That's much easier to say than do."

Will smiled as he twisted around again so his son could resume his attempt at forcing them open. Though his hopes that Jack would actually manage to open the locks had diminished to almost nothing, it still gave the boy something to do besides sit and stare at the darkness, a pastime that could cause the most unbelievable thoughts and headaches.

Time seemed to dilate, centering solely around the tiny scrape of metal over metal. With no light, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed, and the schedule by which they were fed a light prisoner's repast of hardtack and extremely watered rum was too haphazard to base anything off.

The blacksmith could almost swear he _felt_ the final picklock snap in the manacle, dead silence following, silence in which he could hear the brief bounce and roll of the metal across the wooden decking.

"I'm sorry." There was no emotion in Jack's voice, no terror, no anger, no pain… only numbness.

"It's all right. We're all still fine, and we'll find a way out of this. Right, Brian?"

No answer came from the darkness on the other side of little Jack's cell.

"Brian?" Will's heart had shifted into high gear. How long had it been since any of them had heard from the _Intrepid_'s captain? It was possible that the naval man was simply sleeping, boredom having become the better part of valor in their world of darkness, but all of the sailors Will had known had a propensity for going from the deepest of sleeps to total alertness in under two minutes. It was a survival tactic, especially for officers who needed to respond to a late-night warning with a quick, hopefully workable plan.

"Godpapa?"

Will could hear his son moving quickly to the other side of his cell, towards Brian, a soft thud and quiet curse proclaiming that the other set of bars had arrived before the young man expected them to. It was a very good thing that Elizabeth wasn't aware of the extent to which the various crews with which he had sailed had 'educated' their son.

"Godpapa, wake up." The young man's command was forceful, the hint of hysteria buried in it barely obvious, but it didn't seem to have the desired effect as Jack continued to move in his small cell.

"Captain Lanebridges, report."

The command from the other side of Will's cell caused him to jump and straighten automatically.

More importantly, it brought a slurred but coherent, "Aye, sir," from Brian's cell.

"Brian, are you all right?"

"No, he's not. He's got a fever, a bad one."

The hysteria was becoming more evident in the young man's voice, and Will instinctively pulled at his manacled wrists, every fiber of his being screaming with a desire to comfort his son, a desire that was severely handicapped by his inability to hold the boy.

"I'll be all right, Will. There's nothing you can do." The slur to the words was slight but definite.

"Jonas said that he wants us alive and relatively unharmed. If you're hurt, tell them."

"Oh, yes, I truly want the medical attentions of Dumbo and Jumbo. They did so much for you, didn't they, Will?" The heavy sarcasm wasn't lost on the blacksmith as he shifted, reawakening aches in his own body.

"How bad are your injuries, captain?" Jenkin's voice was steady, completely devoid of emotion, that of a commanding officer addressing his troops.

"I don't know." Even in the darkness, the sudden rise in tension was obvious. "Truly, I don't. I wasn't stabbed or cut, not badly at any rate. It's not a wound you can see, definitely not something they can treat here. Even Francis would be hard-pressed to treat this on dry ground."

For an instant the world seemed to stop as Will realized what the younger man was saying.

"Captain, will you be able to walk if we find a way out of here?" Some of the rigid control had melted away, leaving the quartet once again equals in bondage.

"I don't know. If I can't, you know what needs to be done."

"Godpapa, what do you mean?" Suspicion, fear and curiosity were now the primary emotions filtering through into Jack's voice. Receiving no answer from that quarter, he scurried carefully across the cell and reached his manacled hands through the bars to touch Will's arms. "Papa, what's that mean?"

It meant that their time frame for getting the four of them out alive had just shrunk… significantly.

How to tell that to a boy just taking his first steps into manhood, though, especially when they no longer had any plans with which to work immediately?

Will settled for the simple solution—silence. Instead of answering he wrapped his hands firmly around his son's, willing as much strength and courage to the young man as he could.

His arms had gone numb by the time light seeping under the door to their personal hell announced that someone was coming.

Jonas waited patiently by the lantern as their eyes adjusted, simply studying them, and Will tightened his hold on his son's hands, a primitive sense of warning telling him that something was not right.

"I trust your injuries have been cared for, Turner?"

The blacksmith simply nodded in answer to the question, keeping his eyes locked on the tall man.

"And have you enjoyed your stay here? Do you find our hospitality impressive? Determined what you did to place you here?" There was something dangerous in Jonas' tone, a combination of bitterness, depression, and blind acceptance that made Will's stomach crawl. The stumble as the man knelt clumsily in front of his cell and the reek of ale on his breath helped to explain the drastic change between the self-assured man who had greeted them on their first day of captivity and the dangerous being that studied them now.

"We did nothing that would justify this." Will kept his answer calm, quiet, as though he were talking to the twins when they were very young.

"Oh, but you did." Jonas reached through the bars to finger Jack's hair, and Will barely suppressed the urge to howl a challenge, instead tightening his grip on the boy's hands. "You took something precious from Gabriel, so Gabriel plans on taking something precious from all of you. I don't know how he thinks he'll be able to stand to watch, to be that near to that much suffering, but he does, and he won't listen to me. No, he'll not listen to me, and you helped to kill the one man he would listen to. Tell me, child, what does it feel like, to know that you've been involved in so much pain and death in so few years? Do you feel cursed?"

"Leave him alone. He's not responsible for anyone dying. He's just a child, like you said."

Jonas turned his attention to Will, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Children know much more than we give them credit for. You should know that. You watched yours make their first kill at ten."

For over a minute the two men simply stared at each other. Then Jonas sighed, dropping his head and running his hands through his hair. When he raised his head again, it was with a look that Will most definitely did not like.

The flash of light off of metal was almost enough to make Will believe that they had been cursed by something with a horrible sense of humor. The broken picklock was in Jonas' hand almost before Will had seen the man move.

"Yours, Turner?" Jonas hurled the small piece of metal over his shoulder. "No, not yours. Your boy's, am I right?"

"Leave him alone. It was in my cell."

"You can't reach your own manacles with either your mouth or your hands. You probably thought yourself quite clever, huh, boy?" Jonas reached through the bars again, grabbing Jack by his shirt and pulling him forward until only the space of the bars separated their faces. "You've no idea who you're toying with."

Jack's response was quick and vicious, his head ducking down and his teeth digging into the tall man's wrist, intending and succeeding in drawing blood. As soon as the hold on his shirt had slackened enough, the young man lunged to the back of his cell, keeping a challenging glare fixed on his tormentor the whole time.

Jonas' reaction was the last thing Will had expected. He laughed, the sound deep and dark, echoing eerily in the enclosed space of the brig. "You've no idea how much like your namesake you are, boy. Such fire and spirit… but even the strongest spirits will break. Ask your father. He watched one break once, even if they did manage to put it back into a semblance of order.

"As for you…" Jonas turned his dark gaze to Will, and there was no amusement, no mirth to be found in his eyes. "Gabriel needs you to be physically intact, but there are ways of breaking men without ever touching their bodies. Did you know that I was once in the Navy? I was asked politely to leave when they decided that I might be a danger to the midshipmen's berth. Before you allow him to do anything else that could be construed as idiotic, think what could be done to hurt father and son without physically leaving a mark on either."

Will gritted his teeth to keep his own collection of curses and insults from spilling out of its own accord. Threatening him was one thing, but anyone who threatened his children, even if he couldn't entirely understand the threat, had best be prepared to meet their Maker.

Jonas smiled, the action never reaching his cold eyes, and turned to leave, grabbing the lantern as he went.

The blacksmith turned quickly to get a good view of the naval captain in his cell, and the grayish tint to the man's sweat-drenched skin did nothing to make him feel any better.

Darkness closed over the small brig again, seeming even denser than before.

"Will, promise me something."

Will turned instinctively towards Brian's voice, knowing he wouldn't see anything. "What?"

"If I don't get the opportunity, make sure someone kills that bloody son of a whore."

The blacksmith nodded, a thin smile stretching across his face.

That was something the naval captain hadn't even needed to ask for.

Will waited until Jack seemed to have fallen asleep against the side of his cell before speaking with Brian.

"What he said, about being asked to leave the navy… what's it mean?"

Brian was silent for several moments, almost long enough for Will to think he had lost consciousness again. "Keep him away from Jack, Will. It means you keep him away from your son, no matter what."

Will nodded, too furious to speak. He had never killed out of hate or vengeance before, but for Jonas, he just might make an exception.


End file.
